


Oh Christmas Tree

by littleotter73



Series: The Advent Series [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series Finale, no comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21807748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleotter73/pseuds/littleotter73
Summary: Giles takes Buffy to a Christmas tree farm in the countryside to pick out their tree.
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Buffy Summers
Series: The Advent Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559776
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	Oh Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta il_mio_capitano.

When she’d asked Giles to wait and pick out a tree with her, Buffy certainly hadn’t expected him to take her on a drive out of the city to a Christmas tree farm in the scenic countryside, but here they are, walking through the acres of pines and firs on a frigid and foggy morning in December, looking for the perfect tree to trim for the holidays. As he walks in step beside her, she marvels at how they have effortlessly fallen into a domestic familiarity with one another. He’s always been a constant in her life, but navigating through their relationship over the last nine years hasn’t been without its rough patches to say the least. She’s enjoyed the last few days unwinding with him in his home immensely, their evenings spent watching old Christmas movies, like _It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street,_ and _A Christmas Story._ She isn’t sure she's ever seen him laugh so much at a movie and, smiling to herself, she declares _A Christmas Story_ to be her new favorite. To be honest, it's always been a favorite, but it holds a special place in her heart now.

That little smile that graces Buffy’s lips makes Giles’ heart race. He’s not sure what she is thinking, but he knows she is happy, and really, that is all that matters. It’s been a long year on the road for her, spending a month here, 6 weeks there around the globe training new Slayers and Watchers, but her experience and her presence amongst them is invaluable. She is part superhero, part superstar, and is in high demand. He hates sharing her, but he knows that without her efforts, their mission wouldn’t be as successful. He just hopes that the year ahead brings her home more often. It’s definitely something he could get used to. These last few days, watching Christmas movies, holiday shopping, and making meals together have been wonderful and he will miss her terribly when it is time for her to travel again.

“What do you think of this one, Giles?” Buffy asks excitedly as she runs over to a beautiful, luxurious, seven-foot, Nordmann Fir.

He walks around the tree, inspecting the fullness of it and smiles in approval. “That’s the one!”

“Awesome, because this must be the twentieth tree we’ve looked at and I am starting to get frostbite in my fingers and toes!” She stamps her feet against the frozen earth. “I should have worn two pairs of socks.”

“I did say dress warmly this morning,” he replies as he places the tools down on the ground and lays out the picnic blanket he brought.

“Yeah, okay, I forget how cold it gets here and it’s misty today, which makes it feel like it’s colder.”

Giles removes a small thermos from his coat pocket. “There’s some mulled wine in there. That should warm you up.”

“Ooooh, thanks, Giles.” She pours the wine into the lid and takes relief in the hot liquid as it warms her from the inside out. “This is _so_ good.”

“Old family recipe,” he explains, taking off his gloves and his Yorkshire flat cap before kneeling down on the blanket with the bow saw. “The secret is the brandy.”

“I won’t tell anyone. So tell me, how come everyone else gets the employees to cut their trees for them?” she asks as he positions himself onto his side, beneath the low slung branches to reach the trunk of the tree.

“Well,” he begins with a bit of a grunt. “Tradition, I suppose. Three generations of my extended family - well, four now counting my sister’s children - have come here for their Christmas trees. I think my first memory of the farm is from when I was three. We brought our dog Beowulf with us. Don’t judge, my father named him, a gentle giant of an English Mastiff, who took up almost the entire back seat of the car. Mostly I remember being squished up against the door and drooled upon the entire trip and demanding to take home three trees. My sister was born the next year, so Beowulf didn’t accompany us after that. Anyway, the farmer and his family extend this courtesy to long standing customers. I was surprised the old fellow remembered me, really. I haven’t been here in over a decade, although I suppose my sister and I share some familial traits.”

Warmth and affection well up inside her, producing a gooey, happy feeling at Giles sharing such a personal moment with her. He isn’t normally so forthcoming about his life, preferring to listen to others rather than contribute; and when two young boys dart past them on their way to finding their perfect tree, she can’t help but imagine an enthusiastic little Giles running excitedly through the acres of Christmas trees all those years ago.

Sitting down next to him on the blanket, she sighs, “I bet you were a really cute little kid.”

He stops sawing and cocks his head so that he can see her better. “I wouldn’t know how to judge that.”

“Do you have any old pictures you could show me back home?”

“There might be a few old photo albums in the study, if you are truly interested.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” she responds softly, holding his gaze.

Slightly embarrassed, he moves back under the tree. “Right then, I’ll have a look for those after we get the tree sorted and into its stand at home,” he answers before resuming his task.

After a few minutes, she asks, “Do you want me to take over?”

  
  
“I am almost through. If you could get the cart ready, I’d appreciate it.”

She stands up and maneuvers the cart between the trees and into place. Grabbing the tree trunk, she calls down to him, “I’ve got it, so whenever you are ready.”

“All right. Three more cuts should do it.”

When he is through, she eases the tree down onto the cart, careful not to damage any of the branches. Giles stands up and shakes the needles from his coat and hair. He’s a bit sweaty from the exertion, but no matter, his eyes shine with happiness, and her heart feels full just sharing this precious time with him.

“You missed a few.” Her voice is breathy and she steps closer to him to wipe the rest of the needles from his shoulders. Laughing as she removes her mitten and tries to wipe away the little bit of sap that fell onto his cheek while he was cutting the tree, she says, “I don’t think we can get that off without a little olive oil. God, you’re a mess.”

His heart skips a beat at the intimate gesture and the lines around his eyes crinkle with mirth as the smile on his face widens. “When is that not the case?”

Objecting, she slaps his chest and declares, “Hey! You’re not allowed to make fun of yourself. That’s my job!”

He wants to wrap his arms around her and hug her close. Instead, he ducks his head and counters, “Every once in a while you must allow me the use of self-deprecating humor.”

“Maybe just every once in a while, but when you do that, expect me to come to your defense.”

“I’ll never understand you,” he sighs teasingly.

She stands on her toes and taps his nose with her finger. “Good. I don’t want to become boring.”

Catching her hand in his, he chuckles, “My dear, you could never be that.”

They hold one another’s gaze for a heartbeat too long and Buffy, unsure of whether they are flirting or just verbally sparring, gestures to the picnic blanket and tools on the ground. “Good! Now help me get this mess cleaned up, so we can pay for the tree and head home. And can I just mention how much I’m looking forward to those heated seats in your car.”

Giles is starting to shiver himself. He is losing heat quickly as the exertion from cutting down the tree wears off and the perspiration cools his skin. Putting his cap and gloves back on he replies, “As am I.”

As they walk back quietly towards the barn, cart in tow, Buffy places her hand in the crook of his elbow and leans closer to him, “Thank you for today, for bringing me here and sharing this with me.”

He looks fondly upon her and gives her a smile. “Well, we needed a tree,” he dismisses. “And this is the only place I know to get one.”

“Two hours west of the city…” she notes. “I am sure there are places to get a tree closer to home.”

“I am sure,” he agrees. “But this place…” he trails off with a sigh, looking around the scenic farm as they approach the area where they will pay for their tree and it will be prepped for transport.

“This place is deeply rooted in your family traditions,” she supplies.

Halting their progress, he takes a deep breath of the misty, cold air. “It is.”

“You’ve missed it.”

“I have,” he agrees. Covering her hand cradling his elbow with his, he says sincerely, “But it is so much better when you have someone to share it with.”

His pale green eyes reflect his intensity and she’s lost herself once again in them. In that moment, she swears the world melts away around them and time slows down. She wants to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him senseless. She can feel his heart pounding in the space between them, her Slayer senses racing into overdrive. Her eyes never leave his, and she pivots to face him.

“Mummy, Daddy!” one of the boys they’d seen running through the trees earlier yells as he runs by them. “We found it!”

“Come on!” The other one calls to their parents, hot on his brother’s heels.

The couple’s attention is diverted to a man and his wife greeting their sons. She’s pushing a jogging stroller with a baby bundled up somewhere beneath all the bunting and the father is hauling the cart for the tree behind him. He laughs and asks the boys to lead the way.

Buffy circles her arm around Giles waist as they watch the family disappear into the trees. “Seems like this place is deeply rooted in the Christmas traditions around here.”

“It’s good to see it continue,” he answers, draping his arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer to him.

She sighs in contentment. “Giles?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think we could spend some time making popcorn and cranberry garlands to decorate tree tomorrow?”

“If you like,” he answers looking down at her. “Although, wouldn’t the cranberries make a mess?”

“Just don’t run the needle through the soft ones and you’re good,” she says with a laugh.

“We’ll need to stop at the shops on the way home, I have neither cranberries nor popcorn. Is this a Summers family tradition?”

She smiles, though it is bittersweet. “Maybe so. My grandma taught me how to do it when I was little. Claimed it was good for hand eye coordination in little kids and I’ve done it every year since. Well, obviously not the last few.”

“I like the idea. Something handmade to personalize our tree.”

She looks pleased. “And we’ll have to find a new ornament to hang on it. Something that’s personal to just us since it’s our first one together.”

Their first Christmas together has certain ring to it that settles in his heart and has connotations beyond two friends sharing the holidays together. He tries to push those thoughts away, but they stubbornly will not budge.

“Hopefully the first of many,” he responds fondly.

She moves out from his embrace, takes his hand and they resume their walk down to the tree prepping station and Buffy sighs happily. “I’d like that.”


End file.
